Under the Willow Tree
by Sarcastic Realist
Summary: A collection of slightly humourous drabbles that I wrote after deciding I needed to get them out of my system... I don't think they're that bad, but why don't you tell me? GC


_**A/N: okay, let's get this one thing straight. I have never been, am NOT, and will NEVER be a G/C shipper, so I have absolutely NO idea whatsoever where the heck this came from. That aside, I had all these drabbles in my head and needed to get them out and over with so that I NEVER have to write G/C again. :sigh: Alrighty then... here it is...**_

**Under the Willow Tree**

"It looks like a hickey," she states bluntly after checking out the bruise on my neck.

I bat her hand away and roll my eyes. "What do you care?"

"Don't you want me to?" she replies snippily.

I sigh. "Do you want something?" This is getting kind of irritating.

"Yeah," she says, her tone softening some. "I want to know if you're okay."

I sigh again. "I'm fine, Catherine."

"Right…" she eyes me doubtfully, clearly not believing me.

"Cath…" I warn her. "I'm fine."

She squeezes my arm. "Okay," she shrugs and walks away.

* * *

"Gil." 

"What?"

"Why are you here?" she looks up at me, blue eyes wide. She's sitting at the base of the Willow tree in her backyard, legs tucked into her chest, arms wrapped around them in the classic 'help' position.

I purse my lips thoughtfully. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"Sitting." Even now, after Eddie's death, she's calm.

I admire her for that.

"How are you holding up?" I inquire, easing myself onto the ground beside her.

"I'm fine, Grissom."

She doesn't look fine. When I voice my thoughts aloud, she glares at me.

"Do I ever look completely fine?"

She's right.

_Except maybe when she's in a dress._

I jerk in surprise.

"What?" she looks at me strangely.

"Nothing," I lie.

We sit in silence for a minute.

"Stay with me?"

"You know I will."

_

* * *

That son of a bitch._

I storm into the interrogation room, fuming. "You hit her," I accuse the dark-haired man sitting smugly at the table.

"It was an accident."

"Like hell it was." I give him my ice-cold glare and ignore Jim.

"Gil…"

I clench my jaw tightly and mutter to the man, "Screw you," before stalking back out of the room.

Catherine is outside, waiting anxiously. "Well…"

I ignore her and continue walking.

"Gil, how long is this going to go on?"

I haven't spoken to her since this began. I know I'm hurting her; I don't know why I'm being so insensitive.

"Is it a crime to want a little human contact?" she snaps at me, angry now.

A scene flashes before my eyes, back to when we first met.

"_You look lonely, want a lap dance?" _

_I look up to see a drop-dead gorgeous woman standing in front of me, smiling suggestively._

"_No thanks." I gulp down the rest of my beer._

"_Why are you here, then?" she frowns. _

_I don't know why, but something inside prompts me to tell this woman about Marisa. _

_I also don't know why she actually sits down and listens, but she does, and for that I'm thankful._

_She orders a beer, I order another one, and by the time I finish, we're both pretty hammered._

"_Uh, I don't believe I caught your name," I incline my head in her direction drowsily._

"_Catherine." She grins at me._

"_I'm Gil." _

"_Does Gil have a last name?" she winks at me._

"_Grissom. You?"_

"_Willows."_

_I laugh. "Like the Willow tree?"_

_For some reason, she doesn't seem offended. "Yeah. Isn't that funny?" _

_Even though it isn't, we both have a good laugh over it._

_Suddenly aware of the fact that many hours have passed, I stand up unsteadily. "I should go. It was nice to meet you, Catherine."_

_I'm amazed at how polite I am in my drunken state._

"_Yeah," her mouth twists in a rueful smile. "You too." In an unexpected move, she leans forward and gives me a light peck on the lips. "Come see me sometime."_

_Surprised, I nod. "Definitely."_

I blink. "What?" I'm pulled back to the present.

"Augh!" she groans and throws up her hands. "Forget it." She practically stomps away.

"Cath, wait." I reach for her arm.

She tries unsuccessfully to yank it back. "What do you want, Gil?"

"I- I want to know if you're okay." I say hesitantly.

She smiles faintly. "I'm fine."

The fact that I'm still holding her arm bothers me, but I toss the thought aside and smile back. "Good."

* * *

Catherine strides into my office, slams the door behind her and proceeds to burst out laughing. 

I smirk at her. "What?"

"Can you believe Ecklie?" she manages between gasps.

My smirk turns into a grin. "No."

"He was checking me out!" she plants her hands on her hips indignantly and shudders. "I need to go home and take a long hot bath. With strawberry bubble bath."

I laugh. "Feel free to do so." Inside, I'm seething. The very thought of Ecklie looking at Cath- period- makes me want to shove the s.o.b. off a cliff. But of course I don't say so.

She studies me. "A penny for your thoughts?"

_Hell no._

I shake my head vigorously; confused at the direction my thoughts are taking me lately.

She snickers. "Tell me."

"Goodbye, Catherine."

"Tell me."

"Have fun in the bath."

"Gil…"

"Catherine…"

She glares at me, spins on her heel and heads for the door. Then she stops. "Grissom?"

I sigh. "Yes?"

"Don't daydream too long."

My jaw drops, but she's already sauntering down the hallway.

* * *

"I'm a terrible mother." 

"No you're not."

"Yes I am, Gil, why else would my twelve-year-old daughter feel the need to hitchhike to Freemont Street?"

"Catherine, she's going through a phase," I explain patiently. "All kids do."

"Gil, you know what she told me? She said she'd rather live with Eddie, and she doesn't even know that he's dead!" she yells. She doesn't cry; she would never risk it at work, but I can tell she's miserable.

Suddenly having the impulse to touch her, I draw her into my arms and hug her. At first she stiffens, but then she relaxes against me and cries.

A while later, she sits back and says, "I'm sorry."

"No need," I reply immediately.

"Gil," she forces a laugh, "I got your shirt all wet."

"I have a spare in my locker," I shrug nonchalantly.

"People are going to wonder," she tries again.

"Are you looking for a confession of my undying love?" I ask her, half-joking.

Her eyes narrow.

Uh-oh. I knew that comment wasn't smart.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she frowns.

"Nothing." I'm lying through my teeth, and I'm irritated with myself. This isn't like me.

I hate it.

She doesn't believe a word I'm saying, I can tell. She's perceptive.

_But she hasn't figured it out yet, _a voice in my head pipes up.

Figured what out?

_Oh, come on Gil. You're a scientist, for God's sake._

I sigh.

"Cath, go home, spend some time with Lindsay, and come back tomorrow." I massage my temples, trying to rid myself of the headache that I have suspiciously attained.

She eyes me warily.

"Go," I repeat firmly. "I'll call you later."

Right away she looks relieved. "Okay."

"Cath, have fun, okay?" I throw her what I hope is a reassuring smile.

"Right." She grins at me, then slips out the door, leaving me to deal with my defiant mind.

_

* * *

Love is friendship caught on fire._

I throw my book across the room. "Damn it," I mutter under my breath.

Catherine glances at me, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "What did the book ever do to you, Gil?" she laughs.

I frown. "Everything."

She laughs again. I like it when she laughs. It's a nice sound.

_Focus, Gil!_

I snap back to attention. She picks up the book, which, unfortunately, landed right in the place where I had left off. Without looking, she hands it to me. "Here." She catches a glimpse of the title. "Proverbs? Don't you know them all already?"

"No." I answer tersely, staring at the six terrifying words on the otherwise blank page. I stay this way for several minutes, trying to sort out my whirling brain.

"Gil, if you don't look at something else, that ice-blue gaze of yours is going to burn a hole right through the page," she remarks with a smirk. "What are you reading that possessed you to throw a book across the room?" She knows that I'm a bookworm.

"Nothing." I close the book and place it in a drawer in my desk. I stand up. "I'm going to check on Greg and Sara."

"Okay," she agrees with a snicker. "I'll wait here, looking at my fashion magazine."

I know perfectly well she'll do nothing of the sort, but I don't comment. "Fine."

As soon as I leave, she opens the book. _Proverb 57: Love is friendship caught on fire. _She gapes.

When I come back, the book is as I had left it, and she is gone.

* * *

I find her under the Willow tree. 

"You left."

"I had things to do."

"I didn't take that long."

"You're avoiding me."

"What makes you think that?"

"I'm not stupid, Grissom."

"I know."

"No, that's just it Gil! You don't know!"

I am silent.

* * *

"It's a seahorse." I can hear it in her voice; she is barely holding in her laughter. 

I nod. "You like seahorses."

"When I was seven." She smirks.

I shrug. "I thought it might be nice, but I can take it back if you want," I turn to leave.

She grabs my arm. "Stop it."

"What?" I face her head on.

"Being different." I can feel her steely blue gaze bearing into me.

She's right.

_She's always right._

"I'm sorry."

"Don't just be sorry, Gil! Do something about it! Tell me; tell a counsellor; tell anybody! Just get it off your chest!" she yells.

That's it.

I can't take it anymore.

I seize her waist and pull her closer, and with no warning, press my lips to hers softly.

She is shocked for a moment, but after a minute, responds with equal passion. We break apart a long time later, gasping for air.

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glazed over. She licks her lips, the simple action inviting me to kiss her again, longer this time.

Hesitantly, I draw back, wondering what the hell I have done.

She stares at me.

I breathe in raggedly. My heart is pounding. Everything is spinning. And I cannot believe that I have just kissed her. Twice.

"Love is friendship caught on fire," she quotes, her voice barely audible.

"That it is." I murmur in agreement.

She leans closer.

Her forehead is now resting against mine.

"Is that what happened to us?" she asks, her breath tickling my lips.

"I guess so."

And our lips collide again.

_**A/N: I was listening to the song, "The Greatest Reward" by Celine Dion while I wrote this, and it kind of inspired me. Well, anyway... Oh, one thing- I found it weird that Lindsay said to Catherine (in the one episode that she was caught hitchiking) that she'd rather live with her dad than Catherine. Didn't she know that Eddie was dead? I didn't know for sure, so I just made it in the one drabble that she didn't ever find out. Kinda off, but whatever. I hope you liked this; if you like it enough, I might write more... I'm not sure. Please review! -shay**  
_


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